


30 Days of Prowl and Jazz

by Searece



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, AU, M/M, Other, lots of AUs, may add more tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-27 10:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/pseuds/Searece
Summary: I'm doing a 30 day OTP challenge with Prowl and Jazz.  There will be AUs everywhere. Here's the challenge prompt list:https://30dayotpchallenge.deviantart.com/journal/30-Day-OTP-Challenge-LIST-325248585This is in the place of my 2018 New Year's Day update, which I have had no energy to work on and do not have completed at the time of this posting.





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [30 Days of Jazz and Prowl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431179) by [Vatukka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vatukka/pseuds/Vatukka). 
  * Inspired by [30 Day J/P Writing Challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231369) by [InMoNochrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InMoNochrome/pseuds/InMoNochrome). 



> I actually started this on 8/6/2017 with Danatheleseus and InMoNochrome. So far, InMoNochrome is the only one to finish, and her work is here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231369/chapters/27788037
> 
> Since I'm so persnickety about how things are organized, I organized my table of contents to absolute death, lol. I added the "verse" for my own use. If I remember, I will update the "verses" as I post.

AU verse list:  
• War  
• Demon—General/Succubus  
• Virtual Reality  
• Dragon  
• God/Champion  
• Stranded-on-Regalia War  
• Exotic dancer Praxian  
•

Master List

01 - Holding hands  
Verse: War AU

02 - Cuddling somewhere  
Verse: Demon AU—General/Succubus

03 - Gaming/watching a movie  
Verse: Virtual Reality

04 - On a date  
Verse: Dragon AU

05 – Kissing  
Verse: God/Champion AU

06 - Wearing each other’s clothes  
Verse: Virtual Reality

07 – Cosplaying  
Verse: Stranded-on-Regalia War (part 1 of 2)

08 – Shopping  
Verse: Stranded-on-Regalia War (part 2 of 2)

09 - Hanging out with friends  
Verse: Exotic dancer Praxian

10 - With animal ears  
Verse:

11 - Wearing kigurumis  
Verse:

12 - Making out  
Verse:

13 - Eating ice cream  
Verse:

14 - Genderswapped  
Verse:

15 - In a different clothing style  
Verse:

16 - During their morning ritual(s)  
Verse:

17 - Spooning  
Verse:

18 - Doing something together  
Verse:

19 - In formal wear  
Verse:

20 - Dancing  
Verse:

21 - Cooking/baking  
Verse:

22 - In battle, side-by-side  
Verse:

23 – Arguing  
Verse:

24 - Making up afterward  
Verse:

25 - Gazing into each other’s eyes  
Verse:

26 - Getting married  
Verse:

27 - On one of their birthdays  
Verse:

28 - Doing something ridiculous  
Verse:

29 - Doing something sweet  
Verse:

30 - Doing something hot  
Verse:


	2. Holding Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz comforts Prowl after the Praxian comes to him with night terrors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It does get happier later; I assure you. I wrote this chapter on 8/6/2017.

When Prowl arrived at his door with tears on his face, Jazz drew him into his room.

“What’s th’ matter, Prowler?” he asked, ushering the mech to sit on top of his berth. This wasn’t the first time Prowl had come to his door crying, but maybe he could get Prowl to talk this time.

The Praxian shook his helm, wings shaking in his sorrow. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, staring down morosely. He wasn’t sobbing, so he must have cried in his room.

Jazz rubbed Prowl’s back, in between his wings. “Shu,” he cooed, “what’s wrong, love? I’ve got you.”

So rarely did they get upset they cried, but in times like this, they reached for each other. Even if they didn’t share what upset them, they still comforted each other. 

Prowl turned his helm into Jazz’s neck. “Praxus hasn’t left my recharge alone.”

Again? Jazz wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders. Praxus was terrible, and he knew how Prowl felt. He had been inconsolable when Polyhex fell to the Decepticons.

“We have each other,” Prowl murmured, his arms falling lax into Jazz’s lap.

A black servo drifted to Prowl’s white. Digits entwined as the pair laid down perpendicular on top of the berth.

“Forever and ever,” Jazz whispered. He brought up their servos to kiss. “We’ll never be separated.”

“Never ever.” Prowl smiled slightly.


	3. Cuddling Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They cuddle after a battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 8/7/2017. Here are two pictures that were drawn by InMoNochrome of Prowl and Jazz in this chapter:  
> Prowl: https://tmblr.co/ZpUKip2CxIBAA  
> Jazz (somewhat NSFW): https://tmblr.co/ZpUKip2CJ_YSV

Fields looked tiny when they were piled end to end with bodies.  In between the rolling hills lay every frame type, of every city, and formerly, every color.  Now, everyone greyed, but their energon, their spilled lifeblood, remained glowing as bright as a cloudless dawn.  An acrid stench buffeted his olfactory sensors as a wind picked up.  He turned his face into it, reveling in the scent of acid and death.

Had his lover won this war today?  Few of the bots on the field were theirs.  At least here.  His lover, as talented as he was, had always been keen on strategies and known what to do in situations such as this.  Their army had never lost many mechas from a single battle.

He pulled himself to standing, shoulders screaming as he pushed himself up.  His pedes scraped the ground as he dragged himself over the torn ground.  Metal clinked and squealed as he stepped on bodies, no care given to whose banner they had fallen under.  The dead weren’t his concern.  The carrion demons, those wretched things, and scraplets that fed off of the metal of the deceased did not bother him.  They did not bother him vorns ago, and they bothered him even less under the protection of his lover.

His calves and thighs strained as he changed to wandering westward, where a din of cries emanated from.  It was uphill now.  He stepped on fewer bodies.  The ones now though, he was coming to recognize.  There was a weaponsmith, and there a demon who weaved in her spare time.  Her tapestries would be distributed among the army or those closest to her.

Finally, he crested the hill.  His dim visor set upon the army there.  His lips quirked at the beautiful sight of armor gleaming in the early morning light.  Scales and wings and tails flared as the army cried out their victory.

They hadn’t seen him yet, but they would see him soon.  The haze lifted from his processor and pain radiated from his back.  His legs trembled as he started his downhill descent.  He couldn’t stop now though, not when he was so close.

One mech turned his helm, a set of horns gleaming blue from where he’d speared opponents, saw him, and cried, “The Queen returns!”

The shout echoed through the army and a black demon rose up from the center, a helm taller than most of the other demons.  The black demon’s helm turned and red optics pierced over the crowd, seeking him without delay.

Jazz smiled, spark fluttering at the sight of his lover.  His tail, sleek and blue, curled upwards in delight.  His protoform shivered as he remembered times where the other had led the army to battle, leading to a glorious victory.

“My General,” he murmured reverently as his legs collapsed.  Warm, strong servos caught him before he landed.

“My Queen,” Prowl crooned against his audio, lips pressing to his helm.  Prowl’s red optics darkened as his shredded feathery wings lowered, relaxing.  The army around them hushed.  Even the planet stopped creaking as they reunited.

The Queen lowered his helm onto the General’s shoulder.  He buried his face into Prowl’s neck and inhaled the comforting scent of ash and lava, liquid heat.

It meant safety.  He was safe in his lover’s arms.  No enemies could surprise them.  The General knelt and pulled him into his lap.  They sighed as one as the Queen lay there, enveloped by his lover and surrounded by their loyal army.


	4. Gaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz invites Prowl to play a game with him in their recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 8/8/2017. Virtual Reality verse. I had originally wanted the ending to be more epic, but I think I ran out of time and actually followed the limit.

Thank Primus for small mercies!  Jazz opened his fridge and breathed in the chilly air.  His optics skimmed over his treats he’d prepared, and his servo picked up the copper bites.  He had made sure they tasted fantastic enough to serve as a bribe.  It always took so much convincing to get Prowl to spend their evenings together sometimes, at least the way Jazz delighted.

Goodies usually convinced him quicker than not.  He’d made these to the exact way to mimic the goodies Prowl had picked out on their first date.  They tasted the same to him, at least.

Bzt!  Bzt!

Jazz’s helm snapped up and his worried frown transformed into a dashing smile.  That had to be Prowl!

He rushed for the door.  On the way, he tripped on a blanket and soundly cursed as his shoulder jammed into his couch.  He flailed upon trying to escape from the death trap that was the blanket.  It pinched his ankles with utmost viciousness and he kicked his pedes angrily.

His vents heaved as the blanket slithered off of him.  He turned his helm and glared at it, despising its frilly blueness that he’d gotten at a market sale in the lovely city of Altihex.  It had never liked him, even after he’d paid an absurdly high price for it.

“You still ain’t worth that price,” he grumbled at it as he hauled himself onto his pedes.  Silence echoed back at him.  He worried that Prowl had left, but no, surely Prowl wouldn’t do that to him?  He’d never canceled on him before if it hadn’t involved an emergency at the enforcers.

“Jazz?” Prowl sounded worried.  He could imagine that odd sideways curl to his lips, the raising of doorwings as they flared.

As sure as he hated that blue blanket right now when he opened the door, Prowl’s face had crinkled up, his shoulders tight as he loomed for the door.  “Jazz, what happened?”  Those pretty black and white doorwings flickered rapidly.

A smile crept onto Jazz’s face.  “My blanket hates me.”  He led Prowl into the kitchen, kicking that terrible blanket away as he did.

“So I see,” Prowl chuckled and twined his digits with Jazz’s.  He sat where the Polyhexian arranged him and leaned back in the unique low-backed chair.

Jazz grabbed the goodies from the counter where he’d set them earlier and set them now in front of Prowl.

Prowl stared.  “What do you want?”  Jazz only gave him these when he wanted something.

“What makes you think I want something?” Jazz pouted.

Prowl took a bite without responding to Jazz’s question.  “They’re good.”

Jazz knelt beside him, staring pleadingly.  “Will you play with me tonight?” he lowered his audios and clasped his servos together.

Prowl scrutinized him.  He sighed.  “Let’s see how the day goes.”

“Awesome!”  Jazz leaped up and got the other planned activities from his room.  “Let’s have a great date night!”

“Evening,” corrected Prowl as he started setting up the strategy pieces.

“Then after this, we go out!”

Prowl nodded.

xXx

Jazz waved to Prowl as they parted ways down the street, each headed to their own apartment building. 

“Love you!” he called, “See you tonight!”

“Perhaps,” Prowl returned, “Love you too.”

Jazz’s spark fluttered at the words even as he thought that surely Prowl had made a decision by now.  He entered his apartment with a happy spark though.  The day date had gone very well.

He tucked himself into berth soon after de-armoring.  Recharge came quickly, his processor cycling down… and then up as his consciousness transferred.

He blinked as he mimed sitting up and yawning.  He looked around and clapped.  He was in his VR room!  It was always good when everything worked right.

Standing, he trotted to his door and typed the name of the RPG he wanted to play that night into the pad.  It loaded his last save onto the server and he entered the world.

His helm tilted back as the garb of the world appeared on his frame, shifting into his avatar.  Stylized armor, gauntlets and the like, flashed onto his body.

He wrapped his servo around his dagger hilts as he started walking on the uneven dirt paths.  The wind rustled the leaves in the trees above him as he pulled up the “current quests” screen.  And winced.  So many unfinished quests.

Then something else appeared on his screen:  a play request.  He gasped and flailed theatrically as he squealed.

Prowl decided to game with him after all!

He about smashed the “accept” button.

“Yes, of course, I’ll play with you!” he shouted as the knight appeared in a wreath of flames, the game’s transport method.

Prowl rolled his optics and took his place beside the mech.  “Where had you been going?”

Jazz grinned.  “To adventure!”


	5. On a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon AU. Jazz meets up with his love at a river and plans out their day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 8/12/2017.

Jazz padded through the underbrush, not making any spectacular attempt to hide.  He didn’t have the plating to hide here, anyway.  However, he was quiet, quiet enough that even the humming of the crystals overpowered him.  His tail swished about behind him, high enough not to disturb the leaves.  Birds chirped above him and electrodeer bleated afar off.  A musky scent surrounded him.

The woods thinned around him as he trotted closer for the river where he’d meet his love.  Forest ground shifted to grass which shifted to sand that his paws sank down into.  Water lapped at his digits as he stared to the other side of the river.

A helm peered out of the trees on the other bank.  Jazz’s spark thumped inside his chest as the majestic form of Prowl stepped out from the other forest.  Prowl was a magnificent dragon to be sure, all broad lines and large soaring wings which now carried him over the river to meet the other dragon.

“Hello,” Jazz greeted as Prowl landed in the waters before him.

“My mate,” Prowl rumbled as he lowered his white helm to nuzzle Jazz’s snout.

“How have you been?” asked Jazz.  He licked the arctic dragon’s neck, shining up the matte armor with his glossa as he started to groom Prowl.

“I have been well.  And you, how have you fared?” Prowl moved away from Jazz’s reach to lie down on a patch of grass, revealing his dark underbelly.

“The hunting has gone well!” Jazz exclaimed, bounding over to toss himself on top of Prowl.  The larger dragon chuckled, not even winded by the action, and turned onto his back, fully exposing his tender belly to Jazz in a show of trust.

The smaller squirmed until he lay cradled in between Prowl’s front paws and grasped in his arms.

“So what did you have planned for our evening?” Prowl asked, his ice-hued blue optics piercing into Jazz’s dark blue, almost black, pair.

Jazz lowered his helm to rest on Prowl’s cool chest plating and purred, “I was thinking you could show me your hunting skills and how you do it in the Arctic.”

Prowl’s armor was mostly for camouflage in the snowy mountains, his white top blending in, matte luster for catching the sunlight, and black underbelly and underwings absorbing warmth when he turned over to be lazy and fed.

“I’m not sure I will blend here, but I will try.”  Prowl stretched a wing out from being crushed under their combined weight and stretched it out, letting its black bottom surface catch the sun.  “Or perhaps we can lounge here until one of us becomes hungry?” he suggested.

Jazz hummed and hiked a leg up over Prowl’s waist, where his abdomen tucked inwards.  He had no issues making himself comfortable on top of his love and eventual sire to his eggs.

“What if I said I’m hungry now?” He pouted.

Prowl glanced down at him.  “Are you hungry now?”

Jazz hesitated before admitting, “No, not really.”

“Then we stay like this,” Prowl decided.

Jazz snorted out smoke over Prowl’s neck.

Prowl sighed as he licked Jazz’s audio.  He didn’t want Jazz to get fussy.  “If you want to see me hunt that badly,” he began, “then we can get up.”

Jazz didn’t respond immediately, leaving time for a bird to squawk at them from the safety of a nearby tree.  Prowl lifted his helm slightly and growled at it.  It stopped squawking.

“I guess,” Jazz said, “that this is a sweet thing to do.  We can just lay here.  For now.”

“For now,” Prowl agreed.  It had been a long trip and he was glad to rest with his mate.


	6. Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lone tribesmech Jazz is the champion of the god of order. Tonight, he receives something special from the being he serves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me from 8/13/2017 to 8/15/2017. Oops. Behold God Prowl and his Champion Jazz! Thank you to Danatheleseus for the term “Lawgiver” and InMoNochrome for “My Light.” I came up with “Migead,” (pronounced kind of like “meh-geed”) which is a corruption of “My Guide.”

            Birds chirped on the outside of his small hut that he had erected for the night cycle.  He did not want to be rained on.  The rain seemed to be stopped for the night, but he could still hear the drip-drip of acid rain off of the leaves onto the ground and the thatched roof.  Birds of all kinds, from songbirds to the larger predators, had resumed their songs.  They tramped over the leaves, their small pedes making the slightest rustling.

            He cycled a large exvent and tossed an arm over his optics.  Even so, he still saw an imprint of the patched ceiling in his processor.  By now he’d memorized where the most likely areas to leak were, namely the mud red corner and a jagged patch-line near the center.  Groaning, Jazz threw himself onto his side and kicked his legs, trying to rid himself of the urge to go out and explore.

            Leaving his little hut wasn’t safe.  There were all sorts of savage creatures out there that were larger than he was, tougher and stronger too.  He especially didn’t want to run into any celestial servants at this time of night when they were always monsters.  He may have Order’s blessing and be the Lawgiver’s champion, but that didn’t mean he wanted to test the strength of the god’s protection.  Order would only aid him if aid was requested.  And he hated asking for aid.  Jazz loved seeing his lawgiver, but not when he needed help in battle.

            Jazz rolled onto his front and buried his face into his electrodeer hide blanket, something he’d crafted himself after a particularly successful hunt one day.  That day had been fantastic.  He’d felt powerful yet protected, watched by his god.

            With the rain as his only company, he now felt abandoned, as illogical as that was since him and the Lawgiver, the Overseer of Order, shared a bond.  Their bond was unlike anything else.  No creator, sibling, or guardian bond could match it in terms of strength or security.  It could only be severed if his god wished it.  Jazz didn’t know if death even touched it, considering the celestial nature of it.  When he died, if they were still connected, he might wake in the netherworld still bonded and serving the Lawgiver.  He would like that, being the god’s champion until death—after death.

            Audials twitched as his train of thought halted.  Keeping his optics closed, Jazz listened for that sound again.  It had been soft, that sound of pedesteps on marshy ground, and not wet like he would expect after a storm.

            He cracked open his optics, a life in the wild making him alert about his surroundings, and he saw black pedes angled towards him.

            Slowly, he shifted his servo to the dagger at his waist.  He was prepared for a fight with a stranger, even if he was at a disadvantage while lying down.  He wouldn’t stay down without a fight.  His body tensed in preparation, ready to leap.

            “Calm, my Champion.”

            “Migead,” Jazz breathed as that voice reverberated through his audios and spark.  His frozen body relaxed, servo slipping off the dagger as the other knelt in front of the hut, revealing his illustrious countenance.  Even in the oppressing darkness, Jazz picked out the red chevron, blue optics, and sweeping wings that his lord bestowed as his lord knelt.

            “Capable reflexes,” praised the Lawgiver.

            Jazz sat up and scooted to the corner of the hut to make room for the other.  “Thank you, my lord.  What do you need me for?”  He was always willing to serve, especially when he saw his celestial commander in the alloy.  “You have so much to do; this must be a special request.”

            “Oh, yes,” Jazz’s spark thumped harder as a slow smile decorated the other’s face, “this request is very special indeed.”

            “Migead?” His Guide. “M-my Light?” His Light, his revealer of the dark.

            The god crawled, if something so sensuous could be a crawl, under the hut beside him and pulled his champion against him.  The god of order pulled Jazz’s helm up.

            Jazz stared into the other’s blue optics, those intense optics.

            “May I kiss you now, my Champion?”

            Jazz was glad he was sitting down.  He restarted his audios.  No, they were working right. 

            “Of, course, my lord!”

            The god, the celestial, chuckled at the enthusiastic response and then chuckled again as Jazz flushed.

            “Your delight is noted.” Prowl, for that was his name despite all his titles, pressed Jazz to lie down.  The Champion of Order went willingly, happy to be covered by his god.

            How silly was he for his earlier thoughts of being abandoned!  Prowl would never do that to him.  He wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders and smiled.  They’d never been intimate before.  Had he passed some kind of milestone for the other?

            His Light’s lips pressed upon his in the sweetest kiss, and Jazz’s insides fluttered as he pressed his lips back, only for Prowl to pull away.  Fans clicking on, Jazz frowned.

            The god chuckled, “We have the rest of your life.  Tonight is just for kisses.”

            Nodding slowly, Jazz breathed in the scent of crisp crystals freshly harvested, the scent of his lord, mingled with the dust of old scrolls.

            “Were you in the library again?” he couldn’t help but ask.  Prowl loved to read.

            “I was,” the Lawgiver confirmed.

            Then he leaned close once more and Jazz shuttered his optics for their second kiss, which was just as gentle as the first.

            He didn’t know what had made Prowl want to kiss him, to come to him in the night when he couldn’t recharge or focus, but he’d never turn down anything his amazing lord wanted, especially something so intimate.

            Prowl owned him, and Jazz, as insignificant as a single tribal mech could be, would do anything for him.  Anything at all.  If kissing was what he got out of it, what he was rewarded with, then he’d serve all the more eagerly.


	7. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virtual Reality AU. Prowl's and Jazz's avatars get mixed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday 18 August 2017—Sunday 20 August 2017. It’s so short. I guess this can be considered part of Chapter 3’s verse, which is also a virtual reality verse.

“Well, isn’t this fun!” Jazz grinned down at him, which was quite a disconcerting feeling.

“No,” he said.  His audio horns twitched, which was also not something he was used to.

“I guess we’ll have to wait for the bots to figure this out.” Jazz shrugged, his—Prowl’s, actually—doorwings bobbing up and down.

Scrap Jazz was expressive with his frame, Prowl thought.  What did he normally look like?  The avatar he currently wore, Jazz’s, frowned.

“Aw, Prowl, ya makin’ me look bad,” Jazz protested.

“At least we’re in my spatium,” Prowl pointed out.  At least that hadn’t been mixed up.  He turned his gaze down to his now-black servos and frowned more severely.

“Yeah, ya pad is pretty great,” Jazz said as he flopped down onto Prowl’s berth.  Prowl winced at the mangled speech coming out of his vocalizer.

He silently prayed this glitch would get fixed soon.  He didn’t know how much more he could take.

At least they were normal enough in real life though.


	8. Cosplaying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and Jazz get dragged into a planet's local festivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 8/21/2017 and 9/9/2017. “Regalia” is a planet of my creation after I couldn’t find any canon planets that would fit my needs.

            “What are they putting on you?” Prowl asked as he observed the Regalian garb being fitted to Jazz.  It seemed to still be in the planning stages, but the blues and reds would be dashing on Jazz’s monochromatic silver frame.  The large organic race buzzed around them, twittering amongst themselves.

            “They say they’re dressing me up as the goddess Gyla, the mistress of cunning and trickery,” Jazz answered after a moment of speaking with the locals.  Prowl couldn’t understand them because he had not downloaded the language from the other Cybertronian, but the planet’s inhabitants were friendly enough he hadn’t needed to yet.

            “And who am I being dressed as?” Prowl queried, watching as a female Regalian compared a shade of green against Jazz’s plating.  Prowl wrinkled his olfactory sensors, agreeing with the female as she tossed the green into a scrap bin nearby.  Jazz looked better in blues.

            Jazz translated the question and listened as another Regalian compared some purple shades.  Prowl tilted his helm as Jazz flushed the lightest shade of blue.

            “Well?” he prodded, “Who will I be in this celebration?” Now he was really curious indeed.

            “You’re Kilar, the master of truth and disillusion, mate to Gyla.”

            Prowl’s wings flared and he ducked his helm.  Their fields, having mingled freely up to now, both flushed with embarrassment as they avoided the other’s optics.  The characters they were playing were mates?  Were they meant to act as such too?  They’d only ever worked together. They had never spoken about being lovers or mates or more than friends.  They’d barely had time even for friends with the war going on.

            Prowl shuffled his pedes on the dirt and said, “I wouldn’t mind those roles.”

            Jazz glanced up at him, peering through his visor.  “Really?”

            “Yes,” Prowl tentatively smiled, “after all, I’m sure Kilar and Gyla were once strangers to each other as well.”

            Jazz straightened his back and cocked his hip to the side.  “Yeah… yeah, I’m sure they were.”

            Prowl’s wings perked at the positive response rolling in Jazz’s voice.  They could, possibly, start something new here in this unexpected place.  The Regalians pulled the bolts of cloth away from their frames and shooed them out of the tented area.  It seemed they were done for the day.

            Jazz glanced back at the tent they had just left.  “Want to grab a cube?” he softly asked as he looked back up at the taller mech.  The Regalians had enough advanced resources for Cybertronians to be able to survive with them.

            “Yes.  We can check on our costumes tomorrow,” suggested Prowl.

            “Sounds good,” Jazz bopped along beside him to some tune in his helm only he could hear.  “Then you can take me on a date.”

            Prowl’s engine sputtered.  “If you insist.”

            Jazz’s lips turned down, his helm finials lowering.

            “I would like that,” Prowl tried to convince Jazz.  They hadn’t even talked yet.

            Jazz clasped his servos together.  “We can go to their youngling school!  I heard they’re putting on a play of some sorts.”

            “That sounds cute.”  Prowl had always liked sparklings.  He wondered what Jazz’s opinion of the darlings was.  After they got back to Cybertron, he would look into adopting some little one. 

            For now, though, they had to barter for some jewelry for their costumes.


	9. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and Jazz go shopping for their costumes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 9/25/2017. Continues from Day 7.

Jazz’s excitement was almost contagious.  He bounced from stall to stall, pointing out anything that struck his interest from fabrics to children’s toys to the organic food the Regalians consumed.  Everything was so colorful, reds and blues and greens as far as the optic could see.

Prowl thought that it was the best thing he’d seen since the war had started.  The charged air in the thriving community made his wings flutter even as he repressed a smile.  There were other races there too in the marketplace, mostly organic races smaller than Prowl.

“Jazz,” he called, “slow down.”

The shorter bot turned to him.  “Am I going too fast for ya, Prowler?” he teased.

“No,” Prowl shook his helm, “I merely want to admire everything.”

“So ya don’t wanna lose sight of me?”

“What sort of jewelry do we need for our costumes?” Prowl ignored the other’s tease.

“My character…” he paused to speak to a nearby Regalian, “Lots of necklaces with black gems.” Jazz wandered to a nearby stall and examined the offerings.  “And you need more bracelets and waist and codpiece decorations.”

Codpiece decorations? Prowl frowned at the thought.  “Also, I need the Regalian language.”  He hated not being able to understand the sentients around him.  He felt clueless.

Jazz cocked a hip at him and smirked.  “You just want inside of my systems, huh?  Movin’ fast.”

Prowl’s fans clicked on as he protested, “No, I need the language, and it’s slow to learn.” He turned away and felt a white silky sash at a nearby vendor.  “Besides, we’ve known each other for thousands of vorns.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I had plans for this but ran out of time. They were going to hold hands after their banter, and when Prowl plugged into Jazz to get the language download, I wanted that to be a really charged, intense scene.


	10. Hanging Out with Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz visits a club with friends and spots the most amazing dancer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this on 10/27/2017 and worked on it on 10/28/2017; then I finished it on 12/2/2017. It ends a bit abruptly, but I got tired of it. This is the last chapter I have already finished at the time of posting (11 January 2018).

Jazz hopped down his stairs, hips shaking to the beat of his latest favorite song, “Astari” by the Darklings.  It was a fantastic song with a fast tempo and heady organic beat.  The Darklings loved to experiment with alternative music styles, even going as far as traveling off-world in search of inspiration on worlds lush with alien life.

He hoped the music from his favorite band would be playing at the clubs tonight.  That would be a wonderful treat to hear.  Maybe he could make some requests if they went to the right clubs tonight.  Not every DJ took requests.

“Hey, Jazz, you ready to go?” a voice shouted at him from across the lobby.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed, ignoring the femme at the sign in desk who was frowning at them in disapproval for their loudness, “Where are the others?”

“They’re in the park nearby chatting.” The tall Kalisian turned his lanky frame and strolled out the door, heading to where their friends had agreed to meet them.

“Thought so.  Who wants to go where first?” Jazz asked, helm tilting in curiosity.

“Choices are between Red Light and Sparkler’s.”

“Oh,” Jazz chirped and clapped his servos, “I love Sparkler’s Tavern.  I vote there.”

“Same.  Looks like that’s it then.” The Kalisian chuckled.

Several of their friends groaned when they heard Jazz’s choice, but more of them were happy that a decision had been made.

By the time the group got to the chosen pub, they’d stopped by a few other bars and gotten a bit overcharged already.  Nobody complained.

The bot at the door to their destination looked at them dubiously, but they got in.  They wandered over to the bar and ordered drinks.  Jazz hopped up onto the stools at the bar and tapped a digit against his lips in thought.

What did he want?  He loved the standard engex with nuts, but they’d come out with a new specialty drink!  They already had one, but they’d added another, the Ocean Blizzard.  It was a vibrant, slushy blue, he saw from the advertising photo.

“Still deciding?” the bartender asked as she made a simple drink for somebot.

“Nope!” Jazz chirped, “I want Blizzard!”

“Right away.”

Jazz bounced in his place as the femme handed off the drink she finished and got to his.  He couldn’t wait to taste it!  Would it be tart?  Or sweet?  He hoped it wasn’t bitter.  He didn’t like bitter.

He turned his gaze to the dance floor, which was calm at the moment with only a few bots on it.  Sparkler’s Tavern was a higher-end place, fancier and cleaner in design than most other bars around.

There were also stages.  On certain nights, they were set up for a type of karaoke, but not tonight.  Tonight, the dancers were out.  They danced behind cages, locked behind bars to stop rowdy, rude bots from reaching and groping them.

Primus, they were gorgeous.  Jazz’s engine revved as he glanced over them.  The cage’s bars were wide spaced to allow viewing.  The first cage had a femme in it, a short femme with blue highlights.  Jazz wasn’t into femmes too much.  The second stage held a tall, lanky mech with green highlights.  He moved slowly, though prettily.  Jazz’s vents hitched at the sight of the mech on the third stage.  He was beautiful, all crisp white and black lines that could be seen even from the bar.  He moved… wonderfully.  He danced on a pole, body hauled masterfully off the floor as his palms gripped tight to the pole.

Jazz was so lost in watching him that he barely noticed when the bartender placed his chilled drink in front of him.

Primus.  The third dancer, the black and white mech, had sensory panels.  He wasn’t as tall as the green mech or as short as the femme, and was bulkier and had broader shoulders than both of them.  Jazz was glad he was sitting down, or his legs would have given out underneath him.  He loved frames with back appendages, and bots that could dance got him a whole other level of hot.

Distractedly, he grabbed his drink and stumbled off of his seat to head to the third dancer’s cage.  The curtain behind him was drawn, making Jazz hope the mech wouldn’t leave anytime soon.  Several credit chips lay scattered at the base of the pole where customers had thrown them.  Jazz stood only a few steps from where the black and white danced, optics closed in concentration even as a smirk fluttered about his lips.

Jazz shuddered from the display of strength as the mech swung upside down to the beat and arched his back.

The dancer’s neck stretched long as he threw his helm back, fully absorbed into the music.  Jazz sipped on his drink to quench his thirst—or cool him down—as he slid into one of the booths close to the cage.

“First time seeing him?” a voice asked.

Jazz reluctantly tore his optics away from the handsome dancer to a short mech close to him.  “…Yeah,” he eventually answered upon realizing that yes, the mech was talking to him.  “He, uh, worked here long?”

“Yup,” the mech popped the “p” sound, “but part-time, usually mornings, or so I’ve noticed.”

Jazz snapped his sights back to the dancer.  “Know his name?”

“Nope.”

Jazz’s audios drooped.

“I hear he can be friendly, though.” The short mech held up a servo and stood up to go to another mech’s beckoning.

Jazz ignored his leaving.  The dancer could be friendly, huh?  Before thinking too much about it, Jazz dug out a blank credit chip from his subspace and loaded a generous amount of funds onto it.  He twiddled it between his fingers as it glowed brightly.  His engine purred as the black and white dancer swung into an upright position with the ease of long hours of practice.  Pedes slowly touched the stage as sensory panels gave a final flutter, servos releasing from the pole to trail down to his hips as he gracefully bowed.

Jazz shifted in his seat, nerves almost forbidding him from action, but his spark hammered in its chamber.  He lunged forward, own pedes stumbling as he caught one of the cage bars to steady himself.

The handsome dancer peered down at him.

Jazz’s vents stilled and he held up the glowing credit chip.

The dancer’s shadowed, glowing optics brightened.  His servo reached for it, and his digits clasped gently over the tips of Jazz’s own digits.

Jazz released the chip into the other’s grasp, more than willing to tip him for the show.

The mech held the chip up to his lips and kissed it, lips grazing the end of the stick before he turned and sauntered through the drapes to the back of the establishment.

The cables in Jazz’s legs melted into jelly.  He collapsed back into the nearest seat.  Primus.  The mech hadn’t even said anything and his spark was all aflutter.  The mech had shown off so much strength.

With shaky servos, he downed the rest of his melted drink, which didn’t do anything to slow his spinning fans.

He desperately needed to visit during the morning time.  Without his friends.

.

.

.

End.


End file.
